James Bond: The Naked Truth
by Gosunkugi
Summary: The truth will set you free. But for James Bond, the Naked Truth will cost him everything. A past full of mystery is revealed and Bond is forced to confront his greatest adversary yet. Himself.
1. Chapter 1

1

The early evening sun had set and turned the waters of Polyarnyy harbour a deep red, the colour of blood. Seagulls whirled over the cold waves like carrion crows, mesmerised by the rainbow glint of oil coating the sea and the promise of fish underneath.

Cutting through the waters like a knife and making the birds scatter, the imposing metal hulk of the Akula class submarine entered the dock and drifted to a slow, grinding halt. Activity in the harbour began almost immediately as workers and technicians rushed to fix moorings and disembarking ramps, while unnoticed in the bustle, the tall, well-built man in dark blue overalls casually made his way through the area and started towards a single story outbuilding on the far side of the dock.

The quartermaster's office was, like the outside, a hive of activity and filled with noise. The excited chatter of a dozen personnel joined ringing telephones, churning tele-fax printouts and the gentle thrumming of outdated computer machinery. The man entered the room calmly and made his way to one of the main consoles in the center. After powering up the machine and waiting an age for the 10 year old bootleg operating system to start, he punched in several key codes and called up the information he needed easily. He finished memorising the details and shut the monitor down with a crackle of static just as a voice called loudly from behind him.

"Hey! What are you doing? Are you authorized to be in here?"

A few heads turned in their direction but most were too busy and carried on working as if it was none of their business. The man checked his watch and turned towards the officer with a smile.

"My mistake Tovarisch, I thought this was where I check my emails." He answered in flawless Russian, the grin on his face showing through his grey beard. Not fooled by his response, the officer angrily moved from behind his desk and made his way to the center of the room.

"A likely story. Who are you? What is your rank and work number?" Here was a man who clearly loved ridiculing his subordinates.

Tiring of his charade, the bearded man reached inside his overalls and took out the lightweight Stechkin APS machine pistol. At once, the officer recognized the danger and backed away in fear. He turned to run, scattering papers as the intruder calmly finished attaching the silencer and sprayed his fleeing body with a burst of lead, causing him to be thrown violently against the wall and slip to the concrete floor.

The room was suddenly plunged into silence, then absolute chaos as the personnel ran over themselves to get to the exit and raise the alarm, none of them attempted to subdue the stranger. In seconds they were all dead. Only the noise of the ringing telephones intruded. The bearded man moved to the sockets on the wall and ripped them free. Kicking the desks over and smashing the computers beyond repair he watched the small electrical sparks ignite into flame and threw a handful of paperwork onto it, soon it was blazing. His destructive frenzy finished, the man flipped open his radio and keyed the correct frequency.

"Yuri, you may begin."

As if in answer, from outside the office came the unmistakable sounds of small arms fire and screaming. After a few minutes of watching the flames dance up the walls, the man left the building and strolled leisurely amongst the growing carnage. By the time he had reached the edge of the dock, it was nearly all over. From the distance came the occasional gunshot and cry of pain, then silence. He turned calmly as a man dressed entirely in black approached and shouldered his weapon. Saluting as he spoke.

"The area is secure Commander."

"Good, make your way on board the submarine. We have around…" He checked his watch again. "Six minutes before the guards are alerted and the entire VMF comes bearing down upon us."

"What of the crew?"

He turned away from the man and stood in front of the jet black submarine, dwarfed by its incredible hull. The Akula, called by Western powers, the Typhoon, was the largest vessel of its type in the Russian Navy. This one, the _Arkhangelsk_was 574 feet in length and weighed 26,000 tons. He was impressed. It would make a worthy addition to the cause.

"Kill them. dump the bodies into the harbour."


	2. Chapter 2

2

James Bond sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair and read the letter for the sixth time that morning. He pushed an empty whisky glass absently with his finger, staring at the neat handwriting until the words began to bleed together and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to clear them. With his eyes still closed he brought the paper to his nose and inhaled, he thought he detected the faint trace of jasmine perfume, so familiar.

He ran a calloused hand through his dirty blonde hair and turned his attention to the envelope. No return address, no stamp. Hand delivered earlier to his hotel room. Who knew he was staying here of all places? He was supposed to be invisible, off the radar. M would have kittens if she knew. But the letter. _This_ letter. This was going to be a bitch to explain. And if it was true, well, _best not go there yet old man_, thought Bond. He lit a cigarette and thought about the only possible course of action left to him.

"Dammit Celia!"

The phone had been ringing for a full minute by the time Felix Leiter had finally gotten through the door of his office and answered. "Leiter residence." He half expected the person on the other end to have hung up and was surprised but relieved at the sound of the pleasant English voice.

"Good morning, hope I didn't wake you."

Felix relaxed in the oversized leather chair and waved a hand to signal his secretary through the large window.

"James you sonava gun, how you doing? Nah I just got in, I was dropping the kids off at school."

"How is the family? Well I hope."

The secretary entered and he mouthed the word _coffee_ to her.

"They're good, Cedar misses you. You should visit more often"

"And face your wife's wrath? I've still got bruises from last time."

"Oh she loves you really."

"Not to mention facing her cooking, if she loved me so much she wouldn't keep trying to poison me Felix."

"Hey I'll remember that the next time I think about inviting you to thanksgiving dinner."

This was unlike Bond thought Felix, normally he balked at small talk, it was usually right down to business. The harsh truth hit him like a slap in the face and he bit his lip to keep his voice from sounding angry at his friend.

"Listen, not to seem ungrateful but why are you calling here of all places? It's not like you to ring me at work."

"I need your help Felix"

The tone on the other end of the line was frightening. Felix couldn't recall hearing Bond sound so upset.

"My help? What can I do?"

"Off the record you're about the only person I trust right now. Listen I'm in New York, can we meet?"

"Half an hour, buy me a drink and I'm all ears."

Felix placed the phone on the receiver and scratched his untidy beard. As his secretary entered carrying a steaming mug he got to his feet and slipped on his overcoat.

"Celia, hold my calls, I'm just popping out." He paused. "On second thoughts… you're doing fine, just leave it ring off the hook some more."

She apologised with a minute shrug of her shoulders and backed out of the room.

He took a mouthful of coffee and gagged.

"Oh I've got to get a new assistant."

Bond hastily scribbled down the address of the bar and hung up the phone. He picked up his travelling rucksack and quickly threw in the few belongings he had. As he reached for his jacket on the back of the chair he suddenly froze. The long seconds ticked by, Bond hoped he was mistaken, but the letter had already confirmed it. As if in response, from outside the room came the unmistakable sound of a creaking floorboard again. _Shouldn't have used the phone, stupid! _He cursed mentally.

By the time the hotel door exploded inwards Bond was already diving towards the bed. Two men rushed into the room and trained their pistols on the pivoting figure but too late, their silenced shots hitting the empty side of the mattress where his body had been. Bond had reached the pillow and in a blaze of motion spun around to face them, Walther in hand. He dropped the first intruder without thinking. Mechanical and cold, death became second nature and he dealt it like a deck of cards. As the second man squeezed off another shot, Bond felt time go into slow motion and instinctively ducked to the left. The hotel's shabby lamp shattered in a shower of porcelain. The intruder didn't get the chance to fire again, Bond's next bullet hit him between the eyes and he went down heavily.

There wasn't much time to check the bodies but he gleaned immediately that they were professionals, no tags on the clothing, no wallets, not even a pack of cigarettes. Their method of entry, almost perfect. Any other man would be dead. He threw his gun into the rucksack and made for the window and fire escape. As he was halfway through he remembered the letter and doubled back to the desk.

_This is turning out to be one of those days_ he thought as he clambered down the steel steps and into the alleyway below. By the time he heard the sirens Bond was already three blocks away, he hailed a cab and gave the driver the name of the bar and the promise of a tip if he made it there in 15 minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

3

M strolled into the operations center and smiled politely as a junior aide handed her a cup of tea. Purely reflex action, she never felt human until her morning tea and pretending niceties with the staff was more than she could stand. She browsed quickly through the day's briefs and turned her attention to the board in front of her. As she sipped the steaming earl grey she sighed. Normally she'd be relieved that things were going so smoothly, so dull. But this afternoon she couldn't shake the feeling there was something about to catastrophically go wrong. The flashing lights on the electronic screen pulsed rhythmically and she suddenly felt very tired. _He who Gazes into the abyss_, she thought.

A handsome young man in a John Phillips suit rushed quickly over to her, pulling the receiver out of his ear hurriedly as he spoke.

"Ma'am, we have a small problem."

M snapped to attention immediately, resisting the urge to pinch her nose but failing to keep the sarcasm down. She placed the cup on the edge of a rather beautiful table display top and within moments it was gone, taken by another junior dogsbody.

"What is it this time Gerald? Did the Prime Minister lose his cat again?"

"Nothing so exciting M. One of our New York agents has gone off mission."

The aide barely paused for breath, correctly reading M's reaction to bloody well get on with it.

"An altercation has gotten the police involved and one of our recognized names flashed up as renter of the hotel room. Two unidentified males dead. He's disappeared."

"New York? The Dutch ambassador mission was supposed to be routine surveillance, simple undercover. For goodness sake. Who's the agent?"

"Bond Ma'am."

Somehow, M wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"Blast."

In the alley across from the building with the inspired title of _Joe's Girls_, Bond waited. He watched the yellow cab pull up and Leiter step out. Watched as the short black man tipped the driver and gave a quick check of the street before going inside.

As bond began to leave the shadows to follow, he saw a man standing at the top of the street out of the corner of his eye and pulled back instinctively. He was casing the building. _Damn, now they were watching Felix too_.  
After a few minutes Bond made up his mind and as a young couple obscured the man's view, he stepped out onto the street and walked a yard or two before crossing to the bar. As expected, the moment Bond came into his line of sight the man began to talk on his phone.

Inside, the building was thankfully dark and quiet. And at 10am unsurprisingly there were only two other patrons there apart from Felix. As Bond sat on the stool next to his friend, the bartender set a drink down in front of him. A lithe, bored looking girl with skin the colour of coffee danced on a makeshift stage.

"I took the liberty of ordering for you. Hope you don't mind." Felix said.

Bond nodded his thanks to the barman and flashed him a twenty dollar bill.

"Not at all. Same again."

He tossed back the glass and winced at the taste of the sour whiskey. _Bloody American drinks_. The dancing girl wore a lurid leopard pattern bikini and he found his gaze drifting back to her, the whiskey burning a hole in his chest. Or maybe it was something else. Need perhaps. As Bond lit a cigarette, Felix leaned close enough to whisper, even though it was unnecessary.

_Typical CIA paranoia at work_, thought Bond. _They train these guys well_.

"You saw the guy outside?"

"Mmm, small incident at my hotel earlier, probably connected."

"Jesus, James what are you mixed up in now?"

"Come on mate, you know the rules."

"Yeah yeah, if you told me you'd have to kill me."

Bond almost smiled.

"Nothing so vulgar. But my business isn't important enough to warrant two trained killers kicking down my door."

Felix looked at his friend's face in profile. He didn't need to ask any questions about the outcome, they were good but Bond had been better and now they were dead. The bags under the eyes and the days of stubble on his chin told another story. That Bond was off his game. He'd been lucky. His train of thought was interrupted when bond reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"I need you to run some tests on this."

"Some tests? What kind of tests?"

"Handwriting, fingerprints, hair and fibres. Knock yourself out."

Felix looked amused. The girl continued to dance.

"Forgive me for sounding dumb, buddy but trained killers? Don't you have your own people for this kind of thing? Better people?"

"This has to be kept quiet."

Felix didn't bite. "Uh huh, spin me another one."

Bond seemed to gaze through the mirror at the back of the bar, after a minute he spoke, his voice like ice.

"I don't want MI6 involved."

_Finally, we're getting down to it_, thought Felix. He pushed a little further.

"This better be something important Bond. If we've got a tail already I'm sticking my neck on the line here." No response.

He paused to swallow his drink and looked Bond in the eyes. _Ah what the hell_.

"Enough bullshit. Tell me about the letter."

Bond frowned and toyed with the empty tumbler on the bar in front of him, not answering. He rubbed at his stubble and absently fingered the scar on his cheek. He watched the girl gyrate around a bronze pole, on closer inspection she looked about sixteen. And after what seemed like a lifetime he finally spoke.

"It's from my sister."


	4. Chapter 4

4

The shark-like submarine dipped beneath the surface of the sea and disappeared. Under the waves, the conning tower angled upwards like a fin, its perfect displacement leaving almost no wake behind it. It swiftly dropped to 200 feet and became a ghost. The sleek, black shape of the Arkhangelsk now invisible in the nighttime waters of the Volga straits.

On board, the bearded man had changed out of his dirty blue overalls and was combing through the captain's belongings in his quarters. As he slipped on a silver signet ring, the door to the cabin opened and his second in command entered. He caught the flash of the ring and part of the inscription and was curious.

"What is that? Keepsake?"

The bearded man relaxed into an armchair and picked up a nearby glass, half filling it with _Shustov_ and swallowing without hesitation. He rifled through a loose collection of papers absently.

"Mmm, old family heirloom."

Yuri stared at the portraits on the wall. The old Captain had an affection for post-Cold War politicos. The mini gallery read like a who's who of communist socialist ideology. Yuri, born a Muscovite and a product of the KGB's reign of terror had no such love.

"Forgive me but you do not seem the type."

The Submarine dropped alarmingly, then settled. Yuri anchored himself to the wall and fought the nausea. A sharp whistle and a voice came over the intercom.

"Now resting at fifteen hundred feet Commander, awaiting your instructions."

He stood and offered the bottle of vodka to Yuri who shook his head.

"Are you sure? It's good for the stomach." Another shake of the head.

The Commander shrugged and refilled his glass almost to the brim before downing it easily. The two of them left the stateroom and began to make their way to the bridge.

"Even men such as myself have memories, my friend. It just so happens I like to wear mine close."

"Like scars."

The bearded man laughed. "Yes, like scars."

The Russian puffed out his chest in pride. "I have lots of scars."

As they entered the bridge, the red tinged light suddenly reminded Yuri of a bad place from his youth. Somewhere he didn't particularly want to revisit. He closed his eyes and willed the thoughts away. By the time he opened them again, he was calm but found the Commander staring avidly in his direction. He asked the question he and the bridge crew most wanted answered.

"So what is the plan? Now that we have this..." He gestured as if searching for a word.

"This boat."

The commander took up a position at the centre station and ran a hand along the smooth surfaces of the consoles as if checking for dust.

"We've both been given a gift. I have been handed the means to enact a terrible revenge on those that have wronged me. You and your men have been given me." He smiled.

"And we have a sword, your boat Yuri, which we can ride together into the quivering hearts of our enemies."

The bridge crew looked on in awe at the giant of a man standing in front of them.

"I intend to ride this metal beast down their very throats and give them a taste of fear. The kind of fear men like ourselves have had to live with every day of our lives. We ll show them a new world. And if they don't listen, well we'll raise some merry hell." He raised a fist to the ceiling.

"For freedom."

The soldiers raised their voices as one in response.

"_SVOBODA!_"

The commander put an arm around his second's shoulders.

"But first I have to pay a visit to an old acquaintance. More memories, more scars. And then perhaps... perhaps we'll see South Africa."

Yuri raised an questioning eyebrow. The Commander smiled again. Only this time it reminded the Russian of a predator preparing to strike. The flashing teeth among the bristling white beard was most unsettling.

The Commander relaxed, his hand resting on the railing. Yuri stared at the ring on his finger. The words _Orbis non sufficit_ shone clearly in the stark red light of the bridge.

-o-

A man in a terribly unfashionable tan suit entered Joe's Girls and gave a small laugh to himself when he saw the figure seated at the bar. Taking off his sunglasses and loosening his tie he sat and dismissed the tender with a wave of his hand.

"Felix Leiter. Well, well. Little early for you isn't it?"

Leiter's tone was friendly despite his loathing of the man. "Agent Falco, this is a pleasant surprise. Still letting your mother dress you I see?"

"Hilarious as always. Where's Bond? I kind of expected to find him here with you, hiding in a bottle."

"London last I heard. Why?"

"Why? I've got two stiffs cooling down in headquarters, John Doe's, that's why."

"Oh?" Felix was proud of himself, he sounded almost surprised.

"The thing is I've just been told not to investigate further. What do you make of that?

"Sounds like someone higher up is yanking your strings agent." _This was almost worth it just to see Falco struggle, _Felix thought.

"Cut the crap Leiter I wasn't born yesterday. I _know_ this is Bond's handiwork. I _know_ he's in New York and wherever he goes, trouble follows. He's like a magnet for weird shit."

Felix put down his drink and smiled. Six years ago Damien Falco had risen to the highest position in the FBI. After the incident with Colonel Moon, his career had gone from strength to strength. He had connections, Interpol, MI6, he was headed for great things and wasn't shy in letting everyone know. Then suddenly the rug was pulled from under his feet. Almost overnight he was a nobody again, bumped to working routine cases. He'd pissed off somebody, big time. Felix didn't need to think hard about who it was, some people held grudges.

"I've put out an APB on your friend, if he even so much as shows his face at a goddamn Kahuna Burger he's done."

Felix chuckled softly. "Falco, if Bond was in this bar you couldn't find him with both hands and the entire New York Police Department holding your leash."

Falco laughed a little too, trying to disguise his annoyance.

"That's funny. You're a real funny guy, Leiter. Yeah. Maybe I should take you downtown too, spend a few hours knocking that grin off your face."

Felix dropped all pretense and finished his drink.

"Damien, unless you want your career to end up in an even worse state than it already is, I suggest you let it go."

He rose and picked up his jacket.

"If you want my advice..."

"No I don't want your advice, Leiter." Falco spat. "I want Bond."

"Nevertheless I'm going to give it to you. Do what you're told. Don't get involved. If Bond _is_ here and you get in the way, bad things are likely to happen."

He slung his jacket over his shoulder and turned away.

"Real bad things."

Falco watched him walk out of the bar and flicked peanuts at the mirror in frustration.

"Asshole."


End file.
